Undiscovered
by forgetmenotjimmy
Summary: Forced into marriage, Ron finds out that if you can't love a stranger then you can't hate them either and he soon realises that he has more in common with his wife than he originally thought. Warning: mention of torture and scenes of a sexual nature


One-shot with the potential for more plot if requested, enjoy!

Warning: language, mention of torture and scenes of a sexual nature

Undiscovered

"Do you, Ronald Billibus Weasley, take Pansy Cecilia Parkinson to be your lawfully wedded wife?" No. No. No he fucking didn't. He wanted to refuse, he wanted to shake his head and let go of her hands. He wanted back away, swearing loudly, cursing the whole messed up thing; he longed to stride down the longest aisle he'd ever seen and apparate away into the arms of a live and safe Hermione. To be rocked in her arms, rubbed on the back and told that it's okay, they'll be together forever, they'll be together in a world where they don't have to constantly look over their shoulders, watch their steps or fear the murder of their loved ones. Gulping, he breathed out and muttered.

"Yes." They'd lost the War. They'd got the bastard where they'd wanted him but to no avail. At the last moment the duelling pair had been separated and Harry lost in the crowd as the fighting began again in earnest. Ron had pushed and shoved his way to where he thought his best friend had been flung to but it was impossible to be sure of anything, only that the Death Eaters were winning. In front of him his sister was being restrained next to his mother, his dorm mates being beaten to the ground and the rest of the Order dying one-by-one, he'd ducked and ran and fought hard, reaching Ginny and slashing the ropes holding her to their mother. He'd bent to drag her onto her feet, weak and disorientated as she was, when a spell had caught him in the back of the knees and he'd sunk to the floor with a wordless cry as a spell to the head caused the world to explode in stars before he'd blacked out.

Ron's only comfort was that a lot of undesirables managed to escape, the main four being Harry, Hermione, Fred and George. Well, he had no idea if they'd really escaped or their corpses were among those that had been unidentifiable. The lack of evidence of their deaths was all he needed to believe that they were alive and well, having successfully fled the scene and escaped into safety, to fight another day? He had no idea if there was any plan to try and take down this new regime or even just free some from its grasp. Gods how he hated it. It had been sickening having to swear to serve that ungodly thing, to have to kneel in front of him and chant those empty and grovelling words had been near impossible. If not for the fear for his family he would have spat in that cold face and kicked and screamed his way into welcome death. But alas, he had been denied a quick and honourable end along with his parents, Bill, Percy and Ginny. Poor Ginny. Bill and Percy were married to or about to marry their choice of purebloods -Fleur and Penelope Clearwater- so all they had to endure was the frustrating hypocrisy and prejudice rife in their jobs at Gringotts and the Ministry, but Ginny was being forced to marry Draco Malfoy once she'd finished Hogwarts. It was safe to say that neither looked forward to it, glad that Ginny had been allowed to go back and re-do her final year at Hogwarts to give them more time before their inevitable union.

"Do you Pansy Cecilia Parkinson, take Ronald Billibus Weasley to be your lawfully wedded husband?" No. No she didn't. But throughout the majority of her young life, Pansy had found herself without a choice; she'd known this day was coming. She'd been sternly informed of her destiny as long as she could remember. Just that no one had told her it would be with a filthy blood traitor and a fucking Weasley to boot. There was one pride saver in the union, however, the fact that she had been chosen to marry the best friend of the enemy, an enemy turned and tamed, almost a trophy husband. Although he had been tortured for information soon after the Battle of Hogwarts, he had been pardoned by the Dark Lord on the condition that he become a model citizen, marry a nice pureblood girl and denounce Undesirable Number One. He had fulfilled these conditions, though from what she knew of him from their time at Hogwarts Pansy knew that his decision had been heavily influenced by the hold the New Ministry had over his family, his sister being particularly vulnerable. In a way, Pansy had a similar motivation; had she been completely against the idea of forced marriage, she'd still have her parent's reputations and even lives to consider. In any case, she had no choice and her lengthy gulp was only prolonging her descent into misery. Sniffing ever so slightly she nodded and whispered.

"Yes." The enemies of the Dark Lord were all but gone, mudbloods having already disappeared underground or been imprisoned by the Ministry and members of the Order fled or forced to swear allegiance to Voldemort. He was setting up a new society with the emphasis on increasing the pureblood population whilst eradicating all 'poisons' diluting the blood, including mudbloods, werewolves, goblins and giants amongst others. It was like he was starting a Second War, this time against the whole magical population. Pansy shared a dislike of such 'impurities', but at the same time she didn't condone the needless eradication of them, a view that she was sure a lot of people secretly shared.

"You may kiss the bride." The couple was suddenly brought back into the present. Feeling everyone's eyes on them, Ron looked at Pansy and she shrugged slightly; sighing, he leaned in and pecked her on the lips. There was a polite applause and he swallowed down bile, avoiding looking anyone in the eye as they walked back down the aisle. Once at the end they stepped through some French windows and that led to the dining hall of their new house. Technically it was an old house, having originally belonged to the Black family but it had been abandoned in favour of their town house at Grimmauld Place; the New Ministry had bought up all the old abandoned estates and assigning them to the new couples they'd ordered to marry. So Ron and Pansy had received a newly rebuilt mansion and spacious grounds to live out their ordeal. They'd seen it briefly before the wedding so as they settled down in their seats at the middle of the table they looked around the room, studying it and avoiding looking at each other. Slowly, other guests started trickling into the room, talking quietly and with decorum; what Ron would do for the twins to cause havoc and ruin all the careful plans, how Pansy wished her daft friends could have accompanied her on the Head table so at least she could have chatted idly and semi-happily. The dinner passed too fast, all he could remember was a whirl of food and faces, some smiling, others tear-filled, all passing too fleetingly. Pansy's mother harping on about something frivolous, his father making forced conversation with the Parkinson grandparents and his mother… His mother's quiet and red-eyed presence briefly appearing and then disappearing into the crowd, strained words of congratulations and good luck amongst the babble of noise. There was elegant music and stumbling, he just managed not to step on his new bride's toes as they turned about the dance floor. Still they refused to look each other in the eye or say anything other than a polite and empty comment or request as people began to join in, a crowd of bodies milling around them. A few too-weak drinks later and suddenly everyone was leaving and then he was pushed into a large and luxurious bedroom, a richly dressed four-poster bed in the centre of the far wall, a dressing table and two fat wardrobes hugging the opposite walls not quite filling the dark red carpeted floor. It was hot and stuffy and neither moved. All of a sudden, they were very alone; Ron's stomach squeezed uncomfortably and he regretted not drinking more. Twisting her mouth as she crossed her arms almost angrily Pansy spat out, not looking at him.

"You're not getting any tonight." Hands in his pockets, he lifted his shoulders, feeling even more uncomfortable now without the presence of his family.

"Well, we have to…"

"Wow, that's so sexy." He looked at her, really looked at her; he saw through her tough act and realised that she was just as nervous as he was, just as angry and scared and bitter. They were the same in this and she knew just as well as he did that they had to consummate their marriage that night, it was part of the Marriage Ritual, there was no room for argument. He knew that the longer they fought it the harder it would be on them, the more painful on her. He didn't like her, but he didn't want to hurt her either. He pulled his hands out of his pockets and said softly.

"You want me to seduce you?"

"Seduce me? You couldn't seduce a-" He took a step forward and suddenly they were inches apart, his big eyes blazing. Underneath everything she was just a woman and Lavender, thank the Gods, had taught him much about pleasing a woman.

Breathless in the face of this change of tone, the intensity of his gaze froze her in place, mouth open a little. Gently, he dragged his fingertips across her neck and down her shoulder to her hand, taking it in his own he pulled it up to his lips. He was gentler than she ever could have imagined and yet there was a fire in his eyes. Captivated, she just watched him almost blankly as he slowly kissed his way back up her arm, shoulder, neck and then along her jaw to the corner of her mouth, feeling every soft kiss. Eyes closing, she felt him miss her mouth and kiss the other side of it and down her jaw and neck; despite herself, she felt a twinge of disappointment being denied that contact. Part of her wanted to snatch her arm away and slap him, berating him with snarled insults and derisive laughter, but in the end, she knew that she had to go through with it anyway and so tried to relax into the moment. When he reached her other hand and placed a gentle kiss on it, she dragged her eyes open and linked fingers with him, bravely stepping back towards the bed. As they went he unclasped her veil and she undid his bow tie, he laid the veil on the bedside table and she dropped his tie to the floor, her eyes sparkling. Carefully, without touching her, Ron reached his arms around to slowly unzip the long dress, looking deep into the eyes all the while. Shivering at the small distance and the intensity of his gaze, she forget everything and soon found herself itching to be touched, and had to supress a whimper as he stepped away. Gulping she pulled the now loose dress down and stepped out of it straight back into the warmth that seemed to radiate off his body. A body she was suddenly eager to see. Now breathless himself, her heaving breasts making his mouth water, Ron reached around her again, a fingertip trailing down her spine whilst his other hand gently squeezed her pert behind. Gasping, she responded by running one hand through his fiery locks and using the other to pull at his shirt. Together they worked it off and she ran her hands up and down his muscular back, shivering with lust until her fingers felt a rough line snaking across the skin of his back. Trying not to let on she'd felt it, she moved her hands away from it to only encounter similar rough lines in seemingly random places; through the thrill of his soft touches down her own back she suddenly realised that they were scars, possibly for Sectumsempra. She'd known he'd been tortured; she just hadn't really registered exactly what that meant. Of course he'd have scars, of course it had actually…it had really happened to this living being she was eternally tied to. With this horrible realisation she didn't notice his hands stop and only noticed until he moved back a bit to look at her face. Glancing at his expression it was obvious he suspected what she was thinking of and for a moment they were trapped in each other's eyes; hers were soft and questioning whilst his were clouded and almost unreadable. Pushing dark thoughts out of her head, she pulled him closer as he nudged her feet apart, noticeably trying to make himself relax; he lifted her up and instinctively she wrapped her legs around his waist and he walked over to the bed, both of them still exploring each other with soft touches.

Lowering onto the four-poster bed, they never broke eye-contact. Eyes still smouldering he rolled down her stockings, trailing his fingertips down the insides of her legs and taking off her shoes. Crawling on top of her he trailed his fingertips up her sides and to her shoulders, pulling her bra straps down with an aching slowness. As moved his hands past her stomach and round her back to undo her bra she lifted herself up a bit to help him and one of her legs brushed his cock. Feeling his hardness against her body unnerved her and she froze, feeling him undo the strap and taking off her bra. Despite her confident façade and reputation as easy, she'd never had sex before, never really gone beyond making out and his erection just brought her fears and uncertainty back to her. The hopelessness of her situation struck her again and unable to run away and hide she squeezed her eyes shut. Ron paused as he felt her tense and pulled back to look at her face.

"Hey," Holding her chin gingerly he waited until she blinked her eyes open and forced herself to look at him. Shamed by the tears struggling to escape her lashes, she avoided his gaze and focused on the bed hangings behind him. He thought for a moment, guilt and anger pooling in his stomach at what they were being forced to do, what he was being forced to do. Hermione. Oh Gods, Hermione, what am I doing? He stroked her cheek once and rolled to the side, propping himself up on one elbow on her left side so their bodies weren't touching. She hadn't seemed to notice, still paralysed in anxiety and he wished that he could stop and just hold her until she fell asleep. Brown curly hair filled his vision and warm brown eyes pleading with him, no. He gulped and instead remembered Lavender's purring echoing in his head and still with his weight on his elbow beside her, reaching over and gently massaged one of her breasts, Pansy bit her lip but didn't relax until he brushed his thumb over her nipple and she gasped. Ever so slowly he squeezed and massaged her breasts, then dipped his head and teased them with his tongue causing her to release some tension through groans growing in volume; he waited until she grabbed his hair, pulling at his roots slightly before he wondered one hand down to her wet warmth, firmly pressing his palm against it. That made her writhe slightly and so he fingered her a bit through the thin fabric of her knickers before shifting himself down, careful to avoid brushing against her. The feeling of her knickers being removed made her gasp and she forgot all about her worries as his fingers explored her, circling and then lightly pinching her clit; when he used his tongue she thought she'd explode in a flash of light and ecstasy. And soon she was coming, squealing and shaking with such force he had to rear his head up to avoid being hit by her sweating body.

When she'd recovered her senses she felt that he was lying next to her and reluctantly turned her head to meet his gaze. Before he could say anything she breathed in and set her jaw, nodding curtly, determination in her eyes; nodding himself, eyes promising gentleness Ron lifted himself up and began kissing her neck sweetly, massaging her breasts hard again as he positioned himself. As she arched her back in pleasure he found her entrance and biting his lip thrust himself fully in. She gasped in pain, face scrunching up, eyes squeezing and fingernails digging sharply into his arms and shoulders. Bending down his mouth to her ear Ron murmured reassurances to her, a free hand stroking her hair as the hand supporting him fisted the sheets, whole arm trembling with the effort to hold up his weight and jaw tight trying to control himself. It was good that he wasn't a virgin, remembering when Lavender had allowed him to enter her for the first time he almost blushed, how young and innocent he'd been, losing control and lasting barely two minutes. Gulping and breathy she hummed for him to continue and now massaging a breast he continued as slowly and gently as he could. For the next few thrusts, he resisted his urge to speed up and gradually her hisses turned into moans; then he set up a faster rhythm, kissing her neck and rubbing his thumb over a hard nipple. Eyes rolling back with intense pleasure, he completely lost all coherent thought, barely holding on to the dirty talk fighting to spill from his lips. Pressure building in his abdomen he quickly thumbed her clit again and they came together, shaking and moaning loudly, united for the first time in their pleasure.

Sated and exhausted, he rolled off and collapsed next to her. Weakly, she reached down and pulled her knickers back on, swallowing and licking her lips whilst recovering her breath, Pansy tried to think of something cold and witty to say but soon gave up. Mirroring her move of half-modesty, Ron replaced his boxers, extracted his wand from the heap of his trousers and cleaned them both; then he carefully extracted the covers from under them, placing them over her gently.

In that moment her walls crashed to the ground and she sobbed, relief that the ordeal was over, happiness in having had some pleasure and the feeling of being cared for all dragging streams of tears from her eyes. Her husband pulled her into a warm hug and momentarily overlooking the bitterness and injustice she felt towards the whole thing and by extension the man now cradling her, she held onto him tightly and desperately. Finally able to comfort her the way he had wanted to, Ron blinked rapidly as his own tears fought to pour into the warm night air. Feeling her trembling in his embrace he tried not to think about the rest of their lives, relieved to have at least completed the obligatory part of the ceremony. Now that he was here in his new home with his new wife, it didn't seem too bad, especially as he could see the humanity through her cold and snooty façade. But still, as he closed his eyes the face of his secret love blossomed into his head, her soft brown eyes quivering with hurt and betrayal. It's not my fault. Please don't judge me. It was his turn to silently plead to her. I still love you. Now in darkness, it was easy to pretend that the soft body beside his was really hers and that everything was how he'd always imagined. Slowly, the couple stopped cursing their Fate, wondering nervously how the rest of their lives would play out and fell into comforting sleep.


End file.
